wizened_cynic | i have to just kill you

Alex should've known better than to let Lorelai help her go through her belongings. First of all, it takes forever for Lorelai to unpack one little box, because she needs to ooooh and aaaah every single thing that comes out of it. Then she demands to know the sordid details as to HOW Alex came to aquire every single thing, guilting Alex into complying by using the "you lied to me for two years!" card. Alex gives in, but not without telling her, "Fine, but you're not allowed to use that excuse for another month."

"Fair enough." Lorelai holds up a raggedy stuffed animal that was a lion at one point. Most of its mane has ripped off and the remaining fur is patchy and gray. "Who's this liddle fella here?"

"One, stop with the babytalk. Winston Churchill does not like being patronized. Two ---"

"Winston Churchill."

"Yes."

"You named your stuffed animal after Winston Churchill."

"Is there a problem with that?"

"How old were you when you got Winston Churchill?"

"I don't know. Two. Maybe three."

"You named a stuffed animal after a British prime minister when you were three."

"Can we move on?"

"Somehow I'm not surprised."

Alex grabs Winston from Lorelai and tucks it under her arm. "Unpack. Now."

Lorelai takes out a couple of cardboard folders, overstuffed to the point that their edges are bent out of shape from being rubber-banded so tightly. Transcripts, awards, photocopies of the writing Alex did for the high school year book, the Law Review.

"Boring," Lorelai dismisses, tossing them to the side. "No more toys?"

"Just so you know, I've actually acquired more toys in the time I've lived with you than I have in my entire childhood."

"The Little Purple Dancing Guy is not a toy."

"No. He is not. I shouldn't have jumped to obvious conclusions."

Lorelai makes a face and takes Winston, sitting it in her lap and smoothing what's left of its mane. "Just wondering," she cocks her brow at Alex, "you ever, uh, gotten intimate with Winston?"

"WHAT?"

"Oh, come on, you never had a stuffed toy that you liked to ... ya ya the sisterhood with?"

"NO. Lorelai, how do you come up with this stuff?"

Lorelai gazes Alex up and down, then says, "No wonder you're so uptight."

Alex picks up the trophy she got for winning some tennis tournament and holds it like a bat. She's got a good angle. She can probably give Lorelai a decent-sized subdural hematoma. "If you continue this line of conversation, I swear to God ---"

"I had this moose." Lorelai folds her arms over Winston's head, resting on chin on them. "My dad went to Montreal for business or something, and he brought me back this stuffed moose, and I didn't really like her, you know, but she was just the right sized for humping."

Alex doesn't know what she can do except stare at Lorelai and wait for her to finish, and pray that the story doesn't contain details of sexual practices only previously featured on CSI.

"I named her Queenie. Because," Lorelai explains, "she's Canadian and they have the queen on their money."

"Right."

"She wore this little red jacket and had one of those tall brown hats. She was a little Mountie. A Mountie Moose."

"Let me get this straight, Lorelai." Alex pauses for dramatic effect, and also because she needs to gather herself before she can finish the rest of her thought. "You humped a stuffed moose that was a Canadian Mountie."

"Only when I was seven."

"Oh, God, you were seven."

"Hey, I was all about the sexual liberation."

"Please just tell me you don't have Queenie, still."

"No, I don't." Lorelai's voice wavers. She's nostalgic, Alex realizes. Jesus Christ. "My mother burned, like, all my stuffed animals when I was about thirteen. It was like a scene from the Velveteen Rabbit, only without the scarlet fever."

"Poor Queenie."

"Poor Queenie. Well, she was retired by then anyway."

"Lorelai!" Alex says sharply.

"Yeah, I was a total slut when it came to stuffed animals. Besides, once I turned ten I found out that only male moose --- mooses? --- have antlers, and so Queenie? Was actually a guy."

"Oh, my."

"I know. I was so sexually confused during that period in my life."

"I'm sorry to hear."

"It's okay. When I was fourteen, I got a vibrator."

A couple of weeks later, Alex makes a trip to Ontario for an extradition hearing. On her way back over the border, she passes a gift shop, a place decked out in red and white, filled to the brim with little plastic jars of maple syrup and postcards of Niagara Falls. She finds what she's looking for in the back and takes a picture with her camera phone. Sends it to Lorelai along with the message, DO I NEED TO GET YOU ONE OF THESE?

Lorelai texts back ten minutes later. DO NOT FEAR THE COMPETITION, she writes. I LIKE YOU BETTER NOW.

This was written for stupid